


Fire Walk With Me

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Caffeine Addiction, Caffeine Withdrawal, Caretaking, Coffee, Domestic Fluff, FFXV kinkmeme, Fluff, Gladio massages, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Multi, Noctis buys things, Prompto cooks, Soft Boys, The boys taking care of Ignis, Twin Peaks References, Vomiting, they fight for a min then go back to being soft boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: Caffeine withdrawal hits Ignis hard and fast in one of the caves under Lucis and the boys deal with the fallout. Later on, Ignis gets a well deserved day off while I make Twin Peaks references.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing with this idea for a while and, lo and behold, an anon requested it! Writing the boys caring for Iggy was a nice change and Twin Peaks references are always fun. This is actually a fill for 2 prompts, the other one being 'Iggy is having a bad time and needs a day off'. I hope you two anons both see this!
> 
> [Prompt 1](http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=2243528)
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompt 2](http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=303177)

Ignis was, first and foremost, a strategist. An organizer. The man with the plan. He made it his first priority to analyze any mission they were about to take on and prepare for every situation, every outcome. He made sure to have a solution to any problem. 

The one problem he didn’t have a solution to was, ironically, his own. 

Ignis often considered his love—or addiction or dependence, some would say—of coffee and its drawbacks, but past consideration was doing him no good, now. He considered the potential problem, but did not act on his plans by, say, buying caffeine pills or keeping an emergency six-pack of ebony in the armiger. He honestly never thought the withdrawal symptoms would be that bad, or take effect so quickly. 

On this, his second day in a row without caffeine, he was sorely mistaken. 

They’d set out to best the menace beneath Keycatrich the day before. It was their first of such dungeons, so Ignis allowed them to spare no expense in preparation. A new gun for Prompto, a new shield to replace Gladio’s cracked one, all the curatives they could carry and fresh ingredients for quick meals in the caves were just a few of their purchases. In the flurry of their excitement, though, it occurred to Ignis too late that he’d forgotten to pick up a case of Ebony in Hammerhead. And the vendor at the prairie outpost didn’t have any stock. And he was out of coffee grounds. And it was too late to turn back.

He’d be fine, he told himself.

“Ignis,” came Noctis’ soft voice from the backseat, “Are you feeling alright?” 

Between the pounding headache, the bright, glaring sun and the three hours of sleep he’d gotten, he was most definitely not. 

“ _Please_ decide on a station, Prompto. And sit still, if you can manage,” he said to the blonde, perhaps more forceful than he’d meant, “And yes, Noct, I’m fine.” 

Both Noctis and Prompto settled back into their seats, diverting their eyes in apprehension, like they’d done something wrong. From the backseat Gladio observed Ignis for a long moment, but offered nothing to the conversation. If the strategist noticed his stare, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

And he certainly didn’t notice it, because the hammer pounding behind his eyes was almost impossible to ignore. He was sleep deprived and could hardly keep his eyes open, yet felt hyper-aware of everything as they sped through the desert. The normal calm concentration that allowed him to drive, keep up conversation with the boys, change the radio and adjust the A/C was far beyond him, so he resorted to keeping a vice grip on the wheel to make sure they didn’t run off the road. They’d been driving for two hours, and he desperately hoped it wouldn’t continue on for much longer. 

When the cave mouth came into view Ignis afforded himself a small sigh of relief. They were there, that was half the battle, right? A violent stab of pain to his temple reminded him otherwise, so violent that he tore a hand off the wheel to hold the afflicted temple and eye. The other three leaned forward in anticipation at his groan of pain, waiting for what they didn’t know, but then the moment passed. Ignis gingerly placed his hand back on the wheel and maneuvered the Regalia into the flattest spot he could find before killing the engine. 

That was the first of many times Ignis lost track of time. One moment he was staring at his hands—still in a vice grip on the wheel at ten and two—and the next his forehead was braced against the hot leather, his palms digging into his eyes like they would relieve the pressure. It wasn’t working. 

“Ignis,” Gladio’s voice, even with neutrality, kick started his internal clock. Ignis jerked his head up—much too fast, headache wasn’t getting any better—to find Prompto and Noctis already out of the car. After forcing himself to stand, much a miracle in itself, he pushed the Regalia’s keys into Gladio’s hand. Whenever they came back out of that hellhole of a dungeon he was _not_ going to be driving, that was for sure. He lagged behind the other three, kicking himself for not being up front at Noctis’ side, but, oh well. At least his ability to walk straight with such a headache gave him the false hope that he’d be able to throw a dagger with accuracy. 

After winding through dizzying hallways they arrived at the little crawlspace that led to the door of the sealed dungeon. Ignis took great care not to smack his head on the low rock, but once he’d gotten to the other side he almost didn’t have it in him to stand back up. The cave floor was strangely welcoming, at the moment. 

“Iggy, maybe you should have a potion before we start,” Prompto was the unlikely voice of reason, breaking the tense silence between the four, “Take the edge off, you know?” They knew what he was experiencing then, but were probably unsure of the extent. Ignis found it just a smallest bit comforting, but he was still shit out of luck deep in the cave. 

It took a long few seconds for Ignis to process that the potion in Prompto’s hand was indeed for him. He jerked his hand up, blinking rapidly as he nodded his understanding. Prompto was right; the cool wave of relief that washed over him was helpful, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t just hoard their supply of curatives for his own pain relief, either; these dungeons were a harsh test of endurance. The most fearsome enemy awaited them at the bottom and they had to have at least a few potions left for it. 

The first room, for what it was, really wasn’t that bad. They were up against a group of flan—or rather, some variation of the daemon whose name Ignis couldn’t recall—and his three partners didn’t seem to have any trouble handling them. Just the idea of performing his usual back flips and handsprings was enough to make his head spin and his stomach do flips of its own, so he tried to move and summon his weapons as little as possible. Luckily, harnessing the crystal’s magic didn’t require much movement at all. 

Healing spells were notoriously difficult to cast, especially when one was not of the Lucis Caelum bloodline. Concentration was Ignis’ forte, though, and he could not give in and just watch his other three partners were fight without him. The spell took longer than usual to summon—the headache still pounding against his skull—but soon enough Ignis felt the familiar warm wave of magic wash over all of them. 

“You got our backs, Iggy?” It was comforting to hear his prince’s voice, though he scoffed at the thought. It was usually he who offered comfort and protection to Noctis, not the other way around. 

“Always.” 

He could manage this at least, Ignis told himself, playing the support role and tossing in a spell when needed. But that was about as foolish as telling someone to not get hit in a fight—daemons just weren’t that simple. 

Two rooms later the potion’s pain-relieving affects were starting to wear off. His brain seemed convinced that some sort of weight was tied to the crown of his head because he was having trouble keeping upright, even as they were only walking down a corridor. In the fourth room some damned imp finally got the best of him, slamming him down to the ground with one of its aerial attacks. Spots flashed in Ignis’ vision when the back of his head smacked into the uneven, rocky cave floor and his hearing might have gone out for a moment, but he couldn’t be sure. Another one of those instances where time seemed to skip around him. A dull ‘pop, pop, pop’ brought him back around and he found Prompto standing over him, putting a cap in anything that dared to come near. 

“You alright, Iggy?” Prompto turned as the last daemons faded away, kneeling down to offer him a hand. Ignis was silently grateful that Prompto reached him first—if it had been Gladio the man would have hauled him to his feet without thinking and, being in the state he was in, Ignis was sure he’d stumble into a wall as a result. Yes, a gentle hand up was much more preferable. 

“Yes, I think—oh,” He wanted so bad to reassure them, to make everything alright, but he was fighting a losing battle against his body. The cave whirled around him as he tried to stand, all the browns and blacks and grays running together. He yanked off his glasses as he stumbled and braced his shoulder against the cave wall, clear vision suddenly too overwhelming. 

“By the gods,” he groaned, massaging his eyes with one hand, “I feel _awful_.” He heard a snort from somewhere behind him before Prompto stepped in close, laying a hand on the advisor’s back to make him aware of his presence. Ignis tried to roll his neck and shoulders, but they felt locked up like tangled chain. 

“Well, at least you finally admit it,” Gladio said, sauntering over towards the two. His voice had a condescending tone by nature, but they knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Were Ignis feeling well, he would have, too. 

“I thought you already _knew_ ,” he growled, snapping his eyes up to Gladio’s blurry form. His hand clenched around his glasses was trembling something awful. 

“Of _course_ we knew, we’re not stupid, Ig. We were waiting to hear you say it, because far be it for us to help you when you aren’t feeling well,” he said, stepping closer so Ignis could see his scowl, “Earlier, in the car, you snapped at Prompto just because he was trying to change the radio. He said he was going to change it to that classical station you like ‘cause it would be more relaxing or whatever, but you weren’t listening to him.” Ignis felt his heart sink, no, completely fall out of his chest and onto the floor. Had he really been that rude? “It’s not fair when you bottle stuff up like that, not to yourself or to any of us. We’re a team, so everything’s a two way street. You can’t just care about us without getting some care back, yeah?” 

Ignis let out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Getting angry wouldn’t solve anything, even if that felt like the only emotion he could express at the moment. The tension and adrenaline that flowed out of him gave way to pain he didn’t know he was feeling. His wrists and knees were killing him. It felt like he pulled something, but he couldn’t tell what. 

“Prompto, I’m so sorr—” His moment of clarity was short lived, the dizziness from before overwhelming him in full force. Forming coherent thoughts was like wading through thick pea soup, and just the vague idea of food made his stomach lurch. He had eaten breakfast that morning, right? He’d be good until dinner, surely. 

“Woah! Hey, it’s okay, Iggy,” Prompto said, wrapping one arm around Ignis’ waist and bracing the other against his shoulder as he swayed, “Just make it through this place and you can consider your apology accepted, alright?” The advisor hummed as he tried to right himself. It wasn’t working. 

“Blondie, why don’t you take point with Noct? I’ll help Iggy out.” Gladio appeared on Ignis’ opposite side, slipping a hand around his waist. Prompto nodded, gradually loosening his grip on Ignis until he was sure the other man could stand. Once Ignis was stable he let go, trotting up ahead to walk beside Noctis to continue their descent. As they began a slow crawl forward, Gladio encouraged Ignis on. 

“Just follow my feet if you have to, alright? Focus on puttin’ one leg in front of the other…that’s it. You’re gonna be fine, Iggy. We’ve got one of those safe rooms old Ezma told us about coming up, I can feel it.” 

They managed like that—Prompto and Noctis taking on most of the fighting while Gladio guarded Ignis with his shield—for two more rooms before Gladio’s prediction came true. The eerie blue glow of the unlit campfire had never looked so welcoming. 

Noctis’ face contorted in effort as he summoned the camping and cooking gear out of the armiger, but everything came out in once piece. Prompto gladly took over cooking duty after Ignis took one look at the cooler and almost fainted on the spot, only to be ushered into the tent by Gladio the second it was set up, mumbling something about the dim light helping with his headache. Ignis used his hands to walk himself down onto his sleeping mat—sudden moves were a bad idea—and pulled his pillow close, not bothering to take off his shoes or coat. They’d be up again in a few hours, anyway. 

Gladio didn’t join him, but Noctis crawled in soon after. A gentle hand that ran through Ignis’ hair, ignoring the sweat and dirt and gel, signaled the prince’s presence. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you turn back for the coffee. I didn’t know it would be this bad,” he mumbled, his voice muted to match the atmosphere around them. 

“Nonsense,” Ignis replied, shaking his head but keeping his eyes shut. He wanted to say more, but speech was a challenge and he needed to relax. He worried that he might actually die if his body didn’t shut down for at least a few hours. Noctis seemed to get the message, but remained at his partner’s side until Prompto lifted the tent flap and crouched down to offer a mug of broth. Ignis had no interest in it, but he didn’t have the energy in him to refuse after Gladio’s words earlier. The two boys helped support him as he sat up and sipped. The warmth, at least, was comforting. 

Even with a belly full of warm soup, a soft pillow and three attentive partners, Ignis still found sleep escaping him. He focused on his breathing, letting each deep breath loosen up more muscles as he listened to the idle chatter in the background. 

“What do we usually do…four hours?” 

“Four or five, depending.” 

“…Lets do six. Or seven. Yeah, let’s do seven.” 

“Seven? That’s so long! I don’t get cell service down here!”

“Fine with me, you can clean your guns if you’re bored.”

“Hey, you’ll be able to handle warping us out, right?”

“Yeah…might need an ether, but yeah.” 

“Good.”

The other three found their way onto the tent floor one by one. Ignis was curled on his side facing the far wall, which meant a shakeup in their usual bed positions. Under normal circumstances Ignis, who slept silent as the dead and only on his back, served as a warm, comforting rock for Noctis and Prompto to cuddle around while Gladio boxed Noctis in from the opposite side. With the change Gladio found himself victim to Ignis’ usual duty, but fulfilled it with only a little nagging at Prompto to stop fidgeting around so much.

After forcing Ignis to crack open a high potion when they woke, the rest of the dungeon continued on without much incident. The sleep, though perhaps a bit restless, _did_ do wonders for the advisor, so much that he was able to focus a hair quicker in the battles that came, providing the party with a strong regroup when they needed it. 

The effects of the potion _of course_ wore off when Ignis needed them the most—in the final room of the Keycatrich dungeon. 

It also didn’t help that the fira spell he threw at the damned Lakhmu Flan _bounced off_ its body and flew right back at him. Being set on fire was no laughing matter, caffeine withdrawal or no. Between the flames and the subsequent explosion that sent him flying into the cave wall, he supposed he should sit out of the rest of the fight. It was his last clear thought before darkness overtook his vision. 

When he came to Gladio was leaning over him, the smell of singed hair drifting through the air. Everything around him, every part of his body felt hot and burned and wrong. 

“You all there, Iggy?” He asked, gently resting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. He didn’t answer at first, instead glancing around at his surroundings, trying to remember how he’d gotten there. The cave walls all blurred together, so much that he couldn’t even process if he was standing or lying down. Footsteps nearing him grabbed his attention, their little vibrations running through the stone, and he realized he was splayed across the floor of the cave. Noctis certainly wouldn’t be walking on the wall or the ceiling, after all. 

“I, uh…” his own voice sounded so distant; he hoped the blast hadn’t damaged his hearing in any way, “I’m not sure.” 

Gladio hesitated for a moment, and Ignis could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen the shield so wary. “Well…let’s try to get you sitting up, alright? I know you need time to recover, but we can’t stay here, Ig.” He held out his forearm, his eyes expectant as he waited for Ignis to move. The advisor himself was having trouble understanding what Gladio expected him to do.

“C’mon Specs, I think you can do it,” a sudden voice from his right said, and Ignis let his head loll to the side to find Noctis kneeling next to him. The prince took his hand and placed it on Gladio’s forearm. Oh, he thought, he should hold on. Both of his partners slipped a hand under his back then—and one supporting his head—and lifted his torso off the cave floor until he was stable enough to sit up on his own. 

“There we go,” came a bright, sunny voice. Prompto crouched at the advisor’s feet, grinning wide while Ignis could only manage a numb stare. “Are you sure Gladio can’t just pick him up and we warp like that, Noct? I don’t know if he’ll make it to his feet.” Noctis shook his head.

“Warping a group of people is too risky. Sometimes warping displaces you…pitches you back or forward,” he explained, tilting his hand in example, “If we’re not lucky Gladio could end up dropping him. Or falling on top of him. Both of which I’d really like to avoid.” 

Gladio nodded in agreement, “He might already have a concussion; no need to make it worse.” 

Ignis, meanwhile, felt like he was floating, listening to the idle chatter of the other three. He heard the words they were saying and got the notion that they were talking about him, but his brain trying to comprehend the sentences was like throwing mud against a wall and expecting it to stick. 

“Guess it can’t be helped, then.” Prompto leaned forward and patted Ignis’ thigh. “Can you bend your legs, so we can help you stand?” It took Ignis a moment of staring at Prompto’s hand, now tucked under his knee and tugging lightly, but he understood. Once his knees were bent, feet flat on the floor, Prompto moved closer while the two at his side looped their arms around Ignis’ waist. In one swift motion they lifted him off the floor, Prompto taking hold of his forearms to stabilize him. They all froze for a moment, holding their breath while Ignis swayed like grass in a gentle breeze, until the advisor seemed to find his balance. Well, he was still quite dependent on Gladio, but he hadn’t fallen over yet. 

“Ready, Noct?” Prompto asked, skipping to the prince’s other side with all the excitement of someone who was ready to _get out of this damn cave_. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, glancing around at their little warp chain, “Just be prepared to catch him, Gladio. I don’t know if he’ll end up on his feet.” 

Be prepared to catch him indeed. 

This losing track of time business needed to stop, Ignis decided. He recalled leaning against Gladio’s solid weight, so relieved to be leaving the underground, and then a wave, a veritable _tsunami_ of nausea and—

On his hands and knees, dispelling the contents of his stomach across the sandy ground outside Keycatrich Trench. Eos help him, that soup was _not_ doing him any favors now. 

After that the world really began to blur together. He heard shouts and felt hands and could vaguely recall the sensation of being carried, but the only thought that stuck in his head was that his ears were ringing and it _needed_ to stop. 

His next conscious thought found him in a dimly lit motel room—Longwythe would be the closest to Keycatrich, if memory served correctly—and Ignis had a fairly simple request. 

“Gladio,” he said, with immediate regret. It felt like someone dragged sandpaper down his throat, “Where’s the coffee?” 

It hadn’t even occurred to him to check who was in the room, he just assumed Gladio would be there with him. If they were at a rest stop with a Crow’s Nest— _the Crow’s Nest served Ebony, gods be praised_ —then Noctis and Prompto were likely off playing that pinball game they were so fond of. 

A hearty laugh answered him before his partner’s wide palm slipped under his shoulders and lifted him, positioning pillows under his back. Ah, it was much easier to push up into a sitting position like this. His glasses sat, unharmed, on the bedside table, but he forwent them for now. 

“I need you to drink this whole thing first,” Gladio said, shaking a plastic twelve ounce bottle in front of his face, “Then I’ll think about the coffee.” Ignis took the water—wanted to snatch it out of his teasing hands, but he still didn’t feel capable of such quick movement—and set about besting the challenge Gladio had set out before him. Guzzling it down in one long drink didn’t go exactly as planned, especially when the shield grabbed hold of his wrist and forced him to pace himself. “Hey, you’ll throw up just like before if you do that. Slow down, it’s not a race.” 

The water bottle took much longer to defeat than Ignis planned. Three fourths of the way through his stomach felt full to bursting, but Gladio’s determined gaze did not let up. When the bottle finally surrendered its last drop Ignis crushed the thin plastic in his fist and looked to Gladio.

“Perfect. I got you a towel and some spare clothes,” the shield offered him the aforementioned items, a knowing smile on his face, “Now go shower. I can’t even remember the last time you had one.” 

“Gladio,” Ignis hissed, tossing aside the covers to the motel bed, “I’ve been in the throes of caffeine withdrawal for _three days_. Denying me of it now is only counterproductive.” A burning stab in the back of his skull pleasantly reminded him of the symptoms, but he did not give in. Although he was still moving with caution, Ignis managed to stand out of bed on his own. Good, Gladio thought, because that meant he was perfectly capable of showering. 

“Ignis,” Gladio said, using the same exasperated tone the other man often used with him, “You spent the last _three days_ in either a desert or a cave. You hardly drank water. You survived a whole day on two potions and a mug of soup, which you later threw up along with any other liquid in your stomach. You passed out after that and have been asleep for six hours.” The advisor’s expression morphed from annoyed to alarmed in record time. “I would say that you’re well on your way to being _severely_ dehydrated and coffee is not going to help you one bit. So go shower. Let the water run through your system. I’ll have more for you when you get out. Then you can have your coffee.”

With the argument lost, Ignis retreated to the bathroom. As he stripped off his clothes he realized that Gladio was right—it _had_ been some time since his last shower. His pants were filthy with mud and sand and what he guessed was monster blood, not his own. His shirt, as he peeled it off, stuck to his skin in odd places, leaving behind a tight, dry feeling. Dehydration really was creeping up on him. He suddenly wished he had more water already. 

His shower was short lived, but nonetheless appreciated. As he watched the last of the dirty water swirl down the drain he found the soreness and ache of the past few days catching up with him. Well, they didn’t have any plans if he was still recovering, did they? A hot bath wouldn’t be out of the question then. The motel bath was nowhere near large enough for his six foot frame, but the hot water soothed his muscles and drained the tension out of his shoulders. Curling on his side in the tub was awkward, but he could manage if he got to drift away on the ebb and flow of the water filling the tub. 

Time was lost on him again, though this time he didn’t mind. The low creak of the door opening brought him back around and he opened his eyes to find Gladio seated on the floor next to the tub, his head pillowed on his arm on the plastic rim. 

“Havin’ fun?” he asked as he turned off the bath faucet, a lazy smile on his face. 

“Relaxing is the word I would use, and I dare say I deserve it,” he mumbled, intertwining his fingers with Gadio’s when the other man reached out.

“You do. You don’t get near the amount of sleep Noct and Prom do. I think it’s something we should work on, Ig. I can’t stand to see you run yourself into the ground again.” 

“What, the past few days?” Ignis asked, brushing off the concern, “That was only the lack of caffeine. If I’d had some Ebony…”

“Ignis,” Gladio pleaded, “You were like an empty shell, stumbling around down there. Scared the shit outta me, too, because I couldn’t keep an eye on you the whole time. Every time I looked away I was scared to look back. I thought you’d be dead, or missing an arm or…something…” He pulled the other man’s hand close, resting it on his cheek while his amber eyes bore into Ignis’. 

In turn, Ignis stroked his thumb along Gladio’s cheekbone. “You’re right, Gladio…I’m sorry to worry you.” The shield shook his head. 

“I don’t mind worrying over you,” he explained, “Just don’t deny that you need help or anything, yeah? We all need a day off sometimes.” Ignis hummed in agreement as he laid his head back down, letting his eyes slip closed. Gladio returned their intertwined hands to the rim of the tub, letting their bodies relax in the silence. 

They were disrupted when their motel door opened to the chatter of Noctis and Prompto, but the water was beginning to cool off anyway. Gladio pressed a kiss to Ignis’ cheek before leaving him to redress. From the main room Ignis could hear the distinct sound of Prompto’s whine. 

“…yeah. Now start at his elbow and work down through his wrist and hand, alright?” When Ignis emerged from the bathroom Noctis and Prompto were seated and facing each other on one of the beds. Gladio, from what he could tell, was leading Noctis through a basic massage of Prompto’s forearm. 

“Something the matter?” he asked, sitting on the other bed and uncapping a new bottle of water. He was greeted by his younger two partners with wide smiles. 

“Not much, Prom’s hands are just tired,” Noctis said, “He’s been shooting a lot the past couple days, and then we went to play Justice Monsters Five and, well….”

“Not the best way to let my hands rest,” Prompto concluded, giving the other three a bashful smile. 

“Indeed.” He watched as Gladio continued to instruct the prince about warming up Prompto’s muscles and starting with swathing strokes of his forearm. 

“Now you can start up near his elbow with your palms,” the shield said, pointing out the muscle that Noctis needed to target, “But be gentle, the muscles in his joints are delicate.” 

Eventually Gladio left them be, satisfied with the bliss crossing the blonde’s face. If anything hurt he’d let Noctis know, so Gladio didn’t need to stand over his shoulder. 

“What about you, Iggy? Your back is looking especially tight,” Gladio rounded on him, placing his palms over the advisor’s shoulders. He tried to shrug out of the grip at first. 

“It must be getting late, isn’t it? They have a kitchen here, I was going to go start dinner—”

“Come on, no way,” Gladio protested. He echoed his earlier sentiment, “Everyone needs a break, yeah? And right now it’s your and Prom’s turn. So take your shirt off; it’s massage time.” 

Ignis conceded—though he wasn’t sure who would cook dinner if he didn’t—forgoing his usual grace and discarding his shirt on the floor, “How do you want me, then?” 

“On your stomach, with your arms at your sides,” Gladio called, digging through his bag for a tube of lotion. He sauntered back over to the bed and swept a palm across Ignis’ back, “You’ll have to tell me if something hurts, or if there’s something that feels extra tight.” He got a nod in understanding and then uncapped the bottle. 

Until that day, Ignis hadn’t a clue that Gladio’s hands could work out one’s back so well. He did know that the shield was good at using his hands for _other_ things—thick fingers for stretching, large hands for squeezing—but calloused palms for kneading out the knots in his shoulders was not on that list. He couldn’t help but fall into a trance as Gladio worked from the middle of his back and out down his arms, then the same, center-out, all down his spine. Ignis could feel himself quite literally sinking into the mattress as the shield worked from one side to the other, his body unfurling more with every stroke. 

Noctis must have finished with Prompto’s massage at some point, because he recalled hearing the door open and close again, but where those two were off to didn’t concern him. Ignis’ whole world revolved around Gladio and the mattress beneath them, until the shield’s fingers finally worked their way all the way down to his hips. 

“You still with me?” A deep voice grumbled, and he felt the mattress sink next to him. One large, warm hand still kept a comforting presence on his back. 

“Finished already?” he groaned, cracking his eyes open even though he couldn’t recall when he’d closed them. His hands massaged circles into his cheeks as he drew himself into the waking world, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand for the first time that day. 

“It’s been an hour and a half,” Gladio said with a chuckle and Ignis’ eyebrows shot up into his bangs. 

“Has it really?”

The shield nodded, “Yeah, Noct and Prom left about an hour ago; they should be back soon.” 

“Getting food then?” He asked, fishing his shirt off the floor. 

“Hmm, something like that.” 

As if on cue, Prompto sing-songed their return as he pushed the door open with his boot. “We’re back~!” His hands were full with a large pot, one Ignis recognized from his collection. Noctis trailed in after him, four chilled drink cans in his hands. It looked like soda and root beer at first glance, but then—

Ignis wound one hand tight around Noctis’ waist and pulled him in close, covering his lips in a long, impassioned kiss. His other hand plucked the chilled can of Ebony out of Noctis’ hand and into Ignis’ grasp where it belonged. As soon as the kiss was over—leaving Noctis with a star-struck smile—the advisor cracked open the can and took a gulp. 

“Ah, it’s been far, far too long. Thank you, Noct, it’s so delicious I could cry.” 

“Hey!” Prompto protested, hefting up the pot in his grip, “That’s not all we brought. We got that so you could drink it with dinner, Iggy!” 

“Dinner?” He shifted the can to his other hand, too wary to set it down and run the risk of getting knocked over, and peeked through the lid of the pot Prompto seemed so proud of. 

The wonderful menagerie that drifted up into his nose could only come from one dish—his fisherman’s favorite paella, inspired by Coctura’s dish from the Mother of Pearl. Lemon, basil, dill weed and onion wafted through the room as Prompto set the lid aside, fishing out bowls and silverware from a bag nearby. 

“You made this? For me?” He asked, stunned even after Prompto nodded and handed him a bowl, “Well, thank you very much, Prompto. That’s very kind of you.”

“I mean, I didn’t make it _all_ for you, but it did help that this is one of your favorites! So, you’re welcome very much!” 

Ignis directed his attention to the paella then, setting down his beloved Ebony to pick up the fork. He tried to recall the last time someone had cooked something for him that wasn’t in a restaurant…but he couldn’t seem to recall. 

The flavor of the spiced Caem pinkshrimp spreading over his tongue was divine, and just as good as his own cooking, he’d wager. “This is outstanding, Prompto. I’d no idea you could cook so well.” 

“Aw shucks, Iggy; you’d already done most of the work. I followed your recipe and the dish practically made itself,” he said, blushing as he sat down with his own bowl, “But I cooked a lot when I was growing up, when I wanted to lose weight. Fresh ingredients were expensive, so I knew I had to get good quick before I wasted all my parent’s money.” Ignis nodded as he ate, wondering if Prompto wouldn’t mind being roped into cooking duty more often. 

“Are you really going to sleep well, drinking coffee like that at seven o’clock?” Noctis spoke up, gesturing to the can at Ignis’ side. 

“Better than I have the past few nights, that’s for sure,” Ignis explained, “Caffeine withdrawal can actually cause insomnia, as counterproductive as that may be. After my first day without caffeine I could hardly sleep three hours at a time.” 

The advisor proved himself right later that night, falling asleep within minutes of lying down, nuzzling into Prompto’s neck just a little more than usual in thanks for the meal. 

The next morning Ignis forwent cooking, too, in favor of heading to the Crow’s Next for breakfast—or perhaps brunch being as it was ten in the morning. The diner’s offer of unlimited coffee refills for just 300 gil was too good to pass up. 

Ignis hummed in approval as he polished off his third mug that morning. The server—a cute, young girl that had an accent like Cindy’s—was over momentarily to refill the cup yet again, as she had been all morning. 

“Wait a minute, miss,” Ignis said, his hand raised, and he took a sip from his freshly refilled cup, “This is—excuse me—a _damn_ fine cup of coffee. I must thank you for your amazing service this morning.”

“Well, I’m so glad you like it, sir!” She said, flashing a toothy smile, “Are you sure I can’t get you boys anythin’ else?” 

“I noticed you offer a seasonal pie on the menu. Might I ask what it is?” He took another sip from his mug and found himself wondering if he could finish it before the server came back.

“Sure thing! It’s a cherry pie this time of year, with fresh cherries from the farm just down the road,” she said, gesturing with her coffee pot. 

Ignis clasped his hands together and nodded. “Sounds delightful, I’ll have it, then.” She scurried off, calling back ‘Sure thing!’. 

“Well,” Gladio said, pushing away his empty plate and folding his arms behind his back, “I, for one, am glad to have the normal Iggy back.” 

“Me too! The healthy Iggy, that is,” Prompto added. “So, where we headed next?” 

“The gas station, first, after I finish the cherry pie. I’ll never let myself run out of Ebony again.” 

“Good to hear,” Noctis didn't bother looking up from his phone, “And after that?” 

“I was thinking Lestallum, to restock on curatives and supplies once again. Maybe pick up some hunts along the way. There are seven more menaces awaiting us, correct?” Ignis said, mulling over their options in his head, “But regardless, I thought you could drive, Noct.”

That got the prince off his phone.“All that way? Why can’t we split it?” 

The server popped by before Ignis could answer, pie and check in hand, “Your pie, sir.” 

“Thank you,” he nodded, before turning back to Noct. “You see, Gladio suggested the idea of a day off to me, but yesterday was only half a day, as I was asleep for the first half,” he explained, Noctis face the picture of betrayal, “So I’m cashing-in, so to say, on what I’m owed.” 

Noctis’ gaze snapped to Gladio. “So this is _your_ doing.” 

“What, you don’t want to give him a day off?” 

“Why don’t you drive, then?” 

“Because my legs are long and you’ll bitch about the seat being too far back!” 

Ignis sat back and smiled to himself. Even if this was all they did, he was more than happy to sit there all day as they squabbled, enjoying his damn fine cup of coffee and exquisite cherry pie.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been head canoning for a while that Prompto can cook pretty darn well, and that Gladio studied exercise science and massage and all that sort of thing in school. Kind of goes along well with survival, right? Someone so in shape as him has to know how to care for his body in many ways. 
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)


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